much puzzled as he slowly climbed the steps. His lips moved and the
children knew he asked:

"What yo' want of me, child'en?"

Mun Bun tugged at the outer door eagerly, and finally it flew open. He
shouted in the face of the driving snow:

"Come in here, snowman. Come in here!"

"I ain't no snowman," drawled the colored boy. "But I sure is as cold as
a snowman could possibly be."

"It's warmer inside here than it is out there," Margy said. "Although
we're not any too warm. Our steampipes don't hum. But you come in."

"Yes," said Mun Bun, grabbing at the colored boy's cold, wet hand. "You
come in here. We have some coats and things you can put on so you won't
be cold."

"Ma goodness!" murmured the boy, staring at the garments the children
held out to him.

"You can wear 'em," said Margy. "We have more."

"You put on my coat," urged Mun Bun. "It's a boy's coat. You won't want
Margy's, for she's a girl."

"Ma goodness!" ejaculated the colored boy again, "what yo' child'en
s'pose I do wid dem t'ings? 'Less I puts 'em up de spout?"